The Lycanthrope Club - Indiscretion, Part VI (Patreon)

Note: The Indiscretion series is a Lycanthrope Club side-story normally only available for Patrons in the 3 USD tier or higher. I'm making this chapter publicly available. Want to read the other chapters? Join the Patreon today!

Kasmira shifted restlessly on the faded blue sofa. She soundlessly tapped the left armrest with her short red nails. Then, almost imperceptibly, her expression shifted. She looked around her apartment as though she had suddenly forgotten where she was. All was dim bordering on dark; late afternoon had transitioned to early evening, and she had drawn the shades. It occurred to her that she had been sitting for almost an hour. Alone. Apparently doing nothing. She chuckled. Any observer would have likely found her behavior – or lack thereof – unsettling.

            She knew what she was about to do was very, very bad, albeit not exactly evil. It would definitely be nasty and cruel and reckless. She’d never done anything even approaching the degree of turpitude she was contemplating.

            No. Not contemplating. Planning. In truth, she’d spent the last hour mentally rehearsing everything. In vivid detail. Reveling in it, in point of fact.

            A sour thought arose. Wasn’t this how serial killers thought? She remembered reading something about it in her introductory pathopsychology course.

            She pushed the notion aside. The idea of actually ending someone’s life was still genuinely abhorrent to her. She was a good girl – always had been. Everyone said so – to the point it irked her, though she’d never admitted this to anyone.

Kasmira rose from her seat and stepped towards the bathroom. She didn’t bother switching on the lights.

            Her unit’s bathroom was marginally larger than one might expect for a budget one-bedroom apartment. It also featured a translucent skylight. Though the sun had yet to set, the window above provided just enough illumination for Kasmira to view her shadowy self in the mirror. She was about average in terms of height and build, neither skinny nor overweight. Her curves, although nothing to scoff at, were not remarkable. She had a soft, prepossessing face, though – a face appropriate for a sweet-hearted country girl, with lips that readily formed warm smiles and cheeks predisposed to blush adorably. A messy tangle of dirty-blonde hair hung from her head. She favored simple and comfortable clothing, like the light pink sweater, relaxed-fit blue jeans and sandals she was currently wearing.

            She looked up at the skylight, wondering if moonlight was already filtering through like it had that night one month ago. As she lowered her head, her eyes met those of her reflection.

            Why was she doing this?

            It had begun as an intrusive thought – the same bizarre neurological phenomenon that tempted one to jump off a cliff or stab oneself with a kitchen knife. But over a few weeks it had metastasized into a perverse obsession that played itself in her head over and over again. One night she’d binge-watched a marathon of monster movies and slasher flicks the way a chain-smoker might quell their longing with a half-dozen nicotine patches. Another evening she’d walked a narrow alley near the university that had a somewhat seedy reputation in hopes of being accosted. She’d left the alley both unmolested and disappointed, though later on she realized it had been for the best; it hadn’t been what she had been looking for. Not exactly, anyways.

            An eerie smile formed on Kasmira soft lips. She gazed down and realized the one thing she hadn’t decided upon was whether to do it here or wait until she got to the park.

            Silly question. Here, of course.

            Kasmira reached down and pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it to the bathroom floor. She kicked off her sandals, unbuckled her belt and slipped out of her jeans. She started to remove her thin undershirt but then stopped. She giggled. Both it and her panties were cheap and flimsy, and this was a special occasion. Though she was starting to feel a tingle from the moonlight radiating from the skylight, it wasn’t enough to trigger the change. She’d have to start it herself.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her image was really only an outline of shades of greys tinged with color. Her blue eyes, however, were clear and unmistakable.

Kasmira gritted her teeth. Her hands curled into fists. She tensed every muscle she could, hunching slightly. Her pale skin began to redden from the exertion. Then, sharp pain enveloped her fingertips. Her digits briefly swelled before monstrous black claws burst out of them, eclipsing her nails. Her hands twisted and writhed as though possessed and they elongated and darkened into things closer in appearance to paws. Simultaneously, grey fur crept up her forearms and shoulders, thickening to the point of obscuring her flesh. Soft, irregular popping filled the otherwise silent bathroom as the bones in Kasmira’s arms and shoulders twitched and stretched.

It hurt less every time. Perhaps it’d stop hurting altogether one day. If not, no big deal. She wasn’t a masochist, but the experience was so…invigorating. Like diving into ice-cold water.

A soft cry escaped Kasmira lips as her entire chest pulsed and expanded, ribs cracking without actually breaking, her undershirt straining against her breasts as her muscles strained against her taut skin. Her biceps grew to the size of ripe apples, then cantaloupes, then small watermelons. Her deltoids and trapezius muscles gained pound after pound, giving her a hulking, brutish appearance. Her lower body quickly caught up. Her thighs and calves bulged with power. Her heels traveled up her legs while her toes – now sporting sharp claws of their own – and the balls of her feet expanded. Kasmira gripped the edge of the bathroom sink to steady herself as her stance shifted from plantigrade to digitigrade.

Snap. Her undershirt’s left strap broke. Seconds later the sweat-stained thing fluttered unceremoniously to the cold bathroom floor. Kasmira didn’t even feel it. Her panties, however, were growing increasingly uncomfortable. She snarled, reached down and tore the offending raiment away with a flick of a clawed digit. She’d been hoping they’d burst from her body, but it didn’t always happen.

Every inch of her skin save her nose was now covered with mottled brown-grey fur, thickest along her back, chest and crotch. Blood drooled down her lips as her jaw jutted out while her teeth narrowed into wicked fangs. Her nose darkened and became coarse, acquiring a leathery texture. Her blue eyes shifted from blue to purple and then crimson red, glowing like a pair of angry embers. Her ears migrated up her skull and grew tufted and furry. Finally, a long, furry tail slithered out from her spine.

Kasmira arched her back, raised her head and made a sound somewhere between a gurgle and a howl in a voice far too deep to belong to any college-aged girl. She stood there for a few seconds, her massive chest slowly rising and falling as she panted. Then, she pounded the bathroom counter so violently the walls and mirror rattled. She looked up and stared at her now literally wolfish face with sinister delight. Though she couldn’t discern much color the image was much, much clearer. And she liked what she saw.

Ignoring the tattered remnants of her undergarments, Kasmira strode out of the bathroom, ducking as she passed through the doorway. She absently grabbed a small messenger bag lying on a small kitchen table and shouldered it. She’d stash it somewhere once she reached her destination. After all, a werewolf carrying an off-pink bag with a Sailor Mercury keychain dangling on it wouldn’t inspire as much dread.

* * *

A squeaking sound drew Genevieve’s attention as she shut the car door behind her. She glanced up at the tennis court lights and spied a few small shapes flickering in the space between the shadows. She smiled. The bats were back. It was always kind of cool seeing them out here at night. True, once one of them had collided with an errant ball, but the little creature had only been stunned and flew away seconds later.

She shifted her gaze downwards and saw that Millie, Amber and Renny were already on the courts playing a little rally ball – none too surprising since theirs were the only cars in the small parking lot adjoining the park. Like her, they wore tight-fitting athletic gear suitable for a relatively warm night. She adjusted her tennis bag’s strap and looked around, noting how the courts resembled an island of light in a sea of darkness. An expanse of trees lay beyond the grassy field surrounding the court; to the left and right small, suburban neighborhoods. It occurred to her, not the for the first time, that they were kind of isolated out here – vulnerable, even.

Brushing the unsettling notion aside, Genevieve opened the chain-linked gate and hurried out onto the court, waving at the girls. They stopped their rally as she approached.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” said Genevieve cheerfully.

“No, worries,” said Amber – a somewhat short but vivacious girl with short blonde hair and an easy smile. “We just got here a ten minutes ago.”

Genevieve placed her bag on a worn, paint-flecked wooden bench near the gate, unzipped it and retrieved her tennis racket.

“So, it’s just the four of us tonight?” she inquired, spinning her racket.

“Yeah,” said Millie – a slightly overweight but kindly-looking young woman with brownish skin and long dark hair. “Stephen and Scott are still sick and Kasmira said she was busy.” She paused. “Actually, she said she might be able to come but…” Millie shrugged.

“It works out,” remarked Renny, the tallest of the girls and most athletic. She was a brunette with sharp yet attractive features. “Four of us for a two-player match or two single matches.”

“Sounds good,” said Genevieve, stretching her arms. “Lemme stretch a bit first.”

“We’ll keep rallying until you’re ready,” called Renny, already walking back towards the court.

Amber followed Renny while Millie stayed behind with Genevieve.

“Something up, Millie?” inquired Genevieve as she reached down to touch her toes – or at least the tips of her tennis shoes.

“Uh, nothing,” said Millie uncertainly.

“Okay.”

Millie squirmed.

“It’s just…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think…something weird is going on with Kasmira?” said Millie uncomfortably.

Genevieve was silent for a few seconds. She stood up, stretched her back, and regarded Millie, who didn’t look particularly happy.

“Yeah, something’s definitely up with that girl,” conceded Genevieve, keeping her voice low. “Can’t put my finger on it, but I get where you’re coming from.”

“Yeah,” said Millie. “Something about her creeps me out.”

“Really?” said Genevieve, wrinkling her nose. “Didn’t get that impression. The main thing I’ve noticed is that her game has gotten way better. Last week she whooped Renny one-on-one. I don’t think any of us have done that before.”

“I wasn’t there that night.”

“I know. Look, she doesn’t creep me out, Millie. She’s just…” Genevieve snapped her fingers as she tried to come up with the right words “…Kinda spacey now. I mean, she used to be all smiles and apologies. Awkward but cute. Maybe she’s just having a a tough semester.”

“I dunno,” murmured Millie, staring down at the pavement. “Last time I saw her she was staring at Renny and Amber with this really intense look…”

“What? You think she’s gay or something?” remarked Genevieve, grinning mischievously.

“N-No!”

“Yeah, well, she’s not,” said Genevieve. “Trust me.” She took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Tell you what. Next time we see her, I’ll bring it up. We’ll keep it casual and see if we can figure out what’s going on. Maybe we can help her.”

There was a pause.

“Alright,” said Millie, clearly unsatisfied but nonetheless managing a wan smile.

A few minutes later the two of them joined Renny and Amber out on the court. They swatted the ball back and forth for a while and then moved onto a little short court. Their shoes squeaked as they darted back and forth, a soft, buoyant ‘plop’ punctuating every bounce of the ball. Every so often one of the girls would cry out, grunt, or laugh after a particularly good shot or narrow miss. The steady buzz of the floodlights above mingled with the rhythmic chirp of distant crickets.

Genevieve blinked. Renny had leapt in front of Amber and backhanded the ball to her left. It struck the line separating the right service box and alley. Genevieve lunged, racket extended. She managed to reach the ball in time, but its high topspin coupled with the odd angle it struck her racket at launched it high into the air and over the fence. She groaned as she watched the ball bounce off the parking lot asphalt. Renny and Amber jeered.

“I’ll get it,” said Genevieve, already jogging towards the gate.

            Fortunately, the ball didn’t have a lot of forward momentum. It bounced high in the air, then again, slightly lower, still visible.

Then, it stopped. In midair.

            Genevieve had just reached the gate when she saw it happen. The ball hadn’t actually frozen in space. Someone had caught it.

            The figure stood just outside the tennis court lights, right arm raised, clutching the ball. Though the night wasn’t particularly chilly they seemed to be wearing heavy, bulky clothing. Genevieve couldn’t make out much detail in the dim light.

            “Oh, uh, thanks?” said Genevieve, surprised and nonplused by their sudden appearance. She didn’t see any new vehicles in the lot. Nor had she heard any approach.

            The figure said nothing. They lowered their hand; the ball slipped from their grasp. It bounced a few times on the rough, scarred surface of the lot and then rolled off into the grass.

            “Hey, could you, y’know, toss it back here?” called Renny.

            The figure didn’t respond. Then, it rose to its full height; it had been crouching.

            Genevieve felt her pulse quicken. The stranger was enormous, easily seven feet in height and built like an Olympic weightlifter. What’s more, there was something off about the way they were standing, knees bent at an unnatural angle. It couldn’t have been comfortable. It brought her to mind of someone with serious mental or physical deficiency.

            She backed away from the gate, keeping her gaze locked on the stranger, and rejoined the other girls.

            “Uhh, can we help you?” called Amber, addressing the newcomer.

            The stranger just stood there.

Genevieve swallowed and tightened her grip on her racket. She glanced at her friends. They looked anxious as well, though Renny appeared a little angry on top of that.

            “Real funny, asshole,” yelled Renny. “If you don’t get the hell out of here right now we’ll call the cops.”

            Again, the stranger did not say or do anything. It just stood there. Watching.  

            The girls drew closer together.

            “Anyone got their phone?” whispered Millie urgently. “Maybe we really should call the cops.”

            “I left it in my bag,” replied Renny under her breath, grimacing.

            All four girls had left their things on or beside to the bench, which was right next to the gate – mere yards away from the figure.

            Then, seemingly prompted by nothing, the stranger stepped back, fading into the darkness. As one, the girls breathed sighs of short-lived relief.

            “Jesus, what the fuc-…” Amber gestured maniacally at the parking lot. “Where the hell did he come from?”

            “I dunno,” said Renny, shaking her head. “Couldn’t get a good look at him but I’ve never seen anyone like that around here. I mean, the only creepy bums I’ve seen live downtown.”

            “We-we should get out of here,” said Millie anxiously. “I don’t feel like playing anymore.”

            “Yeah, me too,” said Genevieve. Then, she hesitated as something occurred to her. “He might still be in the parking lot,” she whispered. “I…I’m not sure we should go out there.”

            “Okay, let’s call the cops here first,” said Renny steadily. “They’ll drive up here, scare him away if he’s still around, we’ll tell them what happened and all go home.”

            “Okay.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Um…who’s going to get their phone?”

            The four were silent.

            “I’ll do it,” said Genevieve quietly.

            “You sure?” asked Renny.

            “Yeah,” said Genevieve.

            She really didn’t know why she was volunteering. She was scared. Very scared. But also felt a strange impulse to take the risk. Maybe she just wanted to get this over with and didn’t believe they were actually in any danger.

            Genevieve half-walked, half-jogged towards the gate, keeping her eyes locked on the parking lot. Upon reaching the bench she bent down and, gaze still fixed ahead, unzipped her bag. After some fumbling she retrieved her cell phone and stood stiffly. So far, so good. She began walking backwards to rejoin the group. She had gone two, maybe three steps when a loud bang filled the park.

            The tennis court lights went dark.

            An icy chill ran down Genevieve’s body. Her heart started pounding against her chest. She looked around wildly. Though not pitch-dark she could barely see her own hand when she waved it in her face.

            “Shit! Shit!”

            “It killed the lights!”

            Genevieve quickly unlocked her phone and frantically tapped the torch icon. She aimed the small yet surprisingly bright beam of light ahead of her, to her left and then to her right. She saw nothing but the surface of the court. She turned to check on the other girls. She saw Millie, Renny and Amber standing where she had left them. Millie raised a hand to shield her eyes from the phone’s flashlight.

            “Quick, get over her and call the cops!” yelled Renny, waving her over.

            “No! There’s no time! We gotta get to our cars!” cried Millie.

            “He’s probably out there waiting for us out there!”

            “So, we just sit here until he comes for us?”

            “…Gen? Genevieve? What’s wrong?”

            Genevieve’s vision blurred from sheer, soul-shattering terror. A monstrous dark shape had appeared a few feet behind the three girls. They hadn’t even noticed it. It was bipedal but shared few other characteristics with a human. The thing stood at seven, perhaps eight feet and was twice as wide as any of them. It was covered in a thick coat of brown-grey patchwork fur. Its hands – no, paws, were almost disproportionally large and sported stubby curved claws that looked perfectly capable of rending flesh. Most horrifying of all, however, was its head. At first glance it appeared to be that of a wolf, yet the contours of its face, stubbiness of its muzzle and other, subtler incongruities lent it a disconcertingly human character.

            Its eyes glowed with an inner red light.

            With a short, deep growl, it stepped forward and seized Millie by the shoulders. The young girl screamed so loud that Genevieve almost raised her hands to cover her ears. Enraged, the monster gripped her tighter and then bit her right bicep. Blood dribbled down Millie’s arm. She screamed again.

            Panic gripped Genevieve. She stumbled and tripped, scrambled back on her feet and scurried towards the exit. The gate rattled loudly as she slammed into it. She lifted the crude crescent latch and pushed her way out of the tennis court and into the parking lot.

            Screams, roars, and other horrible sounds were coming from behind her. She felt a pang of guilt but quickly rationalized there was nothing she could do to stop what was happening. Fear helped. It was still dark, but her phone’s tiny light provided just enough illumination for her to find her way to her car.

She reached down to retrieve her keys with her free hand only to realize to her horror and despair that she had left them in her bag.

            Something gripped her shoulder. She screamed, whirled around and started pounding her attacker.

            “It’s me! It’s me!”

            Genevieve froze. It was Renny.

            “We gotta go!” she hissed.

            “D-Did you grab your keys?”

            “Shit! No!” cursed Renny. “It started chasing after Amber. I tried to hit it with my racket, but it was-…Forget it! Come on!”

            Geneveive nodded. The two girls circled around the car and started running as fast as their legs would carry them. Before long, they had reached the road.

            “Which way?” gasped Genevieve, looking left and right. She was still holding onto her phone.

            “Downtown,” said Renny, pointing.

            “Those houses got to be closer,” said Genevieve, pointing at a not-so-distant cluster of homes. “We could-”

            “Oh God!” cried Renny.

            Genevieve realized Renny was looking at something behind her. Trembling, she slowly turned and raised her phone.

The creature had followed them. It was only a dozen or so yards away and walking towards them in an eerily calm and casual manner. Geneieve starred at it and then looked back at the tennis court. Somehow, it had circled around the court and park and met them here. Just how fast was this thing?

            Both girls just stood there.

            “W-What do we do?” whimpered Geneveive.

            “If we both run…maybe…one of us will get away…” said Renny.

            The creature grew closer and closer. Its glowing red eyes were like tiny flames. Geneveive saw its teeth glint in the light of her phone.

            Suddenly, Renny turned to Geneveive and gave her a strange, sad look. She uttered a single word.

            “Go.”

            With that, Renny ran down the road. Genevieve blinked, turned and then ran in the opposite direction.

She heard an inhuman howl followed by the sound of heavy feet. She just kept on running.

Second after breathless second passed as Geneveive tore down the dark two-lane road. Her phone’s light illuminated the pavement ahead in brief flickers as it went up and down in her hand. At some point it occurred to her that the monster should have caught up with her by now. She risked a glance over her shoulder. Though she could not make out much in the lightless gloom, she couldn’t see any sign of it. This meant it had likely gone after Renny. She felt a momentary surge of relief followed by horrible, heart-crushing guilt.

The surge of adrenaline that had propelled her was rapidly fading. Her lungs were on fire and her legs were going numb. She did not stop but slowed to a limping half-jog. She wiped the perspiration from her eyes and continued onwards. The road wound its way into a small wooded area that stood between the park and downtown.

A minute or so passed.

Exhaustion finally claimed her. She stopped, gasping, staggered over to a nearby tree and leaned against it. Various pains, aches and bruises clamored for her attention. She grimaced.

She glanced down at her phone and suddenly remembered what it could do. She unlocked the screen and tapped ‘911’ on its cracked surface. She then raised it to her ear.

The call tone sang once. Then twice. Then, there was a click and a voice.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“Yes! Hello! My name is Genevieve!” cried Geneieve desperately. “I need your help!”

“Please tell me you where you are and the nature of your emergency,” said the operator.

“Sorry! I’m at…somewhere on Simon street between downtown Galton and Winnifred Park. My friends and I were attacked by this…this huge animal!”

“Are you or your friends injured?”

“Yes! It bit Millie and I’m pretty sure it’s gotten Amber and Renny too. Oh God…”

“Can you make it to any shelter or place to hide? Is this animal chasing you?”

“I…” Genevieve looked around, holding out her phone. Though she saw no sign of the monster, she saw no homes, businesses, or even any approaching headlights. “No, and I don’t think so,” she replied uneasily.

“Alright. I’m going to send a police car and ambulance do-“

Something snatched the phone out of her hand. She screamed and stumbled back onto the hard asphalt, falling elbow first. Sharp, agonizing pain shot down her arm as she crumpled to the ground. She swore she felt something crack.

She looked up and saw the creature, glowering down at her. Geneveive shut her tear-soaked eyes and waited for it to end it.

Nothing happened.

            She slowly opened her eyes. It was still there, silently gazing down at her with an inscrutable expression. She noted, delirious from terror, that it had a long, bushy tail and stood on its hind feet like a dog. Then, spied the full moon hanging in the black, starless sky just above the trees. Some tiny part of her brain that hadn’t been paralyzed by fear made a connection.

“Werewolf,” she breathed.

            The word seemed to catch the beast’s attention. It lowered its head, staring at her with its inhuman, preternaturally bright red eyes.

            It chuckled.

            It was a rumbling, throaty chuckle, as one might expect from a creature of its size and build. Yet its pitch was unmistakably female. And…strangely familiar.

            “You figured it out,” it intoned, to Genevieve’s utter shock. Again, there was something unnervingly familiar about its voice.

             “Y-Y-You can t-talk?” stammered Genevieve.

            The werewolf simply chuckled again. It fell to four feet and padded up to her until its nose was mere inches away from hers. Genevieve wanted to look away but couldn’t.

            “Why…why did you kill my friends?” she managed, a tremor of hatred stirring in her soul.

            “Kill?” said the beast, cocking its head in mock bemusement. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

            “But you-”

            “They’re not dead,” said the werewolf.

            Genevieve blinked in confusion.

            “Then…why?”

            The werewolf grinned. Some of its fangs were thicker than Genevieve’s fingers. It was a truly horrifying sight.

            …Yet, as she gazed upon its lupine countenance, she swore there was something familiar about its face as well. Certain contours, proportions, even the eyes, alight as they were with their unnerving red glow, reminded her of someone.

            “Fun,” said the monster finally.

            “F-Fun?” whispered Genevieve.

            The werewolf nodded.

            Genevieve snorted. Then giggled. Then, she started laughing – loud, long, maniacal, humorless peals. Then, she hissed as the pain in her possibly fractured arm flared. When her vision cleared, she noticed that the werewolf had actually taken a step back, seemingly nonplussed by her reaction.

            “Okay, that’s enough,” it said, lowering its shaggy head. “I didn’t want to hurt you this badly.”

            “What?”

            “I’ll make it as painless as possible,” it continued. It stood, squatted and raised a clawed digit into the air.

            “Y-Y-You said you weren’t going to kill me!” cried Genevieve.

            “I’m not,” it said. “Don’t fight the transformation when it starts – embrace it.”

            The werewolf licked the digit, gently gripped Genevieve’s chest with a massive paw a leveled the saliva-coated claw at her uninjured arm.

            Realization dawned. Genevieve stared at the approaching furry finger like it was a gun pointed at her head.

            Then, something growled. It wasn’t the werewolf.

            There was a flash of movement and inrush of air around her. The werewolf had vanished. Genevieve heard the crunch of tree branches and a canine yelp a few yards to her right. She tilted and strained her neck, staring into the darkness. By sheer chance her phone had landed nearby and was pointing lightbulb up. She saw a second werewolf – this one black-furred, not quite as large as the first but somehow twenty times more frightening – pressing her attacker against the trunk of a tree like a cop arresting a criminal.

            This final twist proved too much for Genevieve’s already addled brain. She fainted.

* * *

            Melinda stepped out onto the motel balcony, sighed, and then shut the room door behind her. Lily was there, leaning against the guardrail, waiting for her. The young Hispanic girl wore a concerned frown that hardened when she saw Melinda’s solemn expression.

            “Not here,” said Melinda, nodding towards the parking lot.

            Understanding, Lily followed her down the hard concrete steps. In the window of the room Melinda had just left, a curtain parted an inch – wide enough for a single, sad, sunken eye to peer out as the two girls descended.

            Neither said a thing until they were on the opposite side of the motel near the office.

            “So…” began Lily.

            “Yeah, she admitted everything,” said Melinda quietly. “Her story matches the other women’s.”

            “Madre de Dios,” muttered Lily. “Why did she do it?”

            Melinda was silent for a time. She glanced back at the motel room, up at the overcast sky and then turned back to Lily.

            “I still don’t understand it,” she confessed. “Maybe if I was psychiatrist, but-…”

            “So, she’s crazy?”

            “No,” said Melinda, shaking her head. “She’s…a very nice girl. Polite, modest – selfless, really. Didn’t come across as unstable. Seemed genuinely sorry. And it wasn’t act,” Melinda paused “Or, if it was an act, she deserves a goddamn Oscar.”

            “If she’s so nice, why did she hunt down her tennis pals like some kinda psycho murderer?”

            “She was playing out a fantasy,” said Melinda, wincing.

            “Huh?”

“She’s a huge horror fan. Like, hardcore – the type who goes to those extreme haunted houses that tie you up. But it’s kind of a secret obsession of hers; she thinks it’s embarrassing. Getting her to admit it was like getting someone to admit they have a…toilet-related fetish.”

            Lily stifled a giggle but kept listening.

            “She loves being a werewolf,” continued Melinda. “Really, really loves it. Even more than Heidi. But again, it’s shameful for her at the same time.” Melinda sighed. “I guess it…created a kind of psychosis or mental conflict that ended with her going on her little rampage. Again, I’m no psychiatrist. It’s a little like those girls who tormented Cassandra.”

            “Was she actually trying to kill them?”

            “No, she said she just wanted to scare them. At least at first. But once she got started it sort of escalated and…” Melinda trailed off with a shrug.

            Both girls said nothing for a time. A nearby car backed out of its spot, turned and sped past them onto the road.

            “Melinda,” began Lily. “Sometimes…You ever feel an urge to transform someone?”

            “Huh?”

            “You know, a friend, family, someone you like, you start thinking about letting them into our little world and then offering to, you know…” said Lily uneasily.

            Melinda stared at Lily.

            “I haven’t done anything like that before you ask,” said Lily defensively. “But it’s there, Melinda. We don’t talk about it much, but you know it’s there.

            Melinda didn’t say anything but eventually gave Lily a curt nod.

            “Okay. Maybe that urge is stronger in her.”

            “What?”

            “The same way Sophie is huge and how Yvette just turns into a ginormous wolf,” explained Lily. “Werewolves are…different from each other.”

            “So, you’re saying she had a strong unconscious urge to convert all of those women and rationalized it as some kind of game?”

            “Uh, I guess.”

            “Huh, it sort of makes sense,” conceded Melinda, scratching her head. “It could also be a combination of the two – pre-existing obsession with being the monster and then actually becoming one.”

            “Chicken or the egg, I get it,” said Lily.

            “Actually, the egg…never mind,” said Melinda.

"Still, no excuse for what she did."

"Yeah. Absolutely."

            There was a pause.

            “Okay, the important question is how do we handle this?” said Melinda. “The captain convinced the local cops to bury the 911 call, but we still have to deal with three new werewolves, a witness lying in a hospital bed and another new werewolf who may suffer from an uncontrollable urge to transform everyone around her.”

            “No clue,” said Lily with a sigh. “It’s a real goddamn mess.”

            “Well, here’s my first thought,” said Melinda. “First, we get those four other women to swear to secrecy. Then we offer them membership in the Lycanthrope Club. And by offer, I mean insist.”

            “Uh, I don’t think a bunch of college girls are going to want to join a high school club in a town over a hundred miles away.”

            “We won’t tell them it’s a high school club,” replied Melinda wearily. “As far as their concerned, we’re an ancient and secret order that rules over all werewolves in the United States. And it’s not even a lie if you ignore the first two parts.”

            “Hah. Yeah.”

            “I’ll hand them a modified version of the club bylaws and give them my phone number. I’ll have them call in every month or so.”

            “What about her,” said Lily, tilting her head towards the hotel room.

            “I don’t think the other four women are ready to talk to her, let alone forgive her,” said Melinda, shaking her head. “We’ll…form a second club with her and the other girls we found – Siya, Cindy. We’ll tell them to keep an eye on her. Maybe the urge won’t be as strong if she has a pack.”

            “It’s almost like we’re franchising the club, Melinda,” said Lily wryly.

            “As if dealing with those idiots at Pinebrook wasn’t hard enough,” groaned Melinda. “The school is 30% werewolf now and that includes the teachers. It’s going to be even harder to manage when Yvette, Cynthia and Heidi go out of state for college.”

            “Sounds good to me,” said Lily. “And I don’t think anyone in the club will object. No one does when it’s your idea.”

            “I’ll go to the hospital,” said Melinda, ignoring the last bit. “You stay here with Kasmira and let her know what’s going to happen.”

            “Okay,” said Lily, nodding. “Y’know, there’s still one werewolf left – the one from that video.”

            “Hopefully that’s the last one,” said Melinda. “We’ll track down whoever it is. Count on it.”